


The Great Photo Race

by gnetophyta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-relationship kinda flirting and confusion, Super-photogenic Iwa-chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnetophyta/pseuds/gnetophyta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa realizes that he doesn't have a single terrible photo of Iwaizumi on his phone, and challenges the volleyball team to get the worst photo possible in a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Photo Race

**Author's Note:**

> This came about after reading a hc on the-rolling-libero's tumblr about the whole team trying to get a bad photo of Iwaizumi and failing. I can't find the link, I'm sorry, but it cracked me up so hard that I had to write this.
> 
> Hope y'all like it!

Oikawa was reclined up against the lockers in the clubroom, one leg bent, and one long, lanky arm resting on his knee. He scrolled idly through the photos on his phone, waiting for Iwaizumi to finish showering so they could head home. Kindaichi was sitting on the bench adjacent, looking disinterestedly at his phone, occasionally nudging Matsukawa to show him a funny meme. The room was quiet, save for the steady thrum of the ceiling overhead and the distant sound of water hitting tile.

“I have a _big_ problem.” Oikawa stated to the room at large, looking up from his screen. The other two occupants raised their heads slowly. Both Kindaichi and Matsukawa knew well that any broad, sweeping statement from their setter off the court usually meant they were in for a spectacularly inane announcement. Neither man responded, knowing full well Oikawa would continue regardless. “I can’t find a single bad picture of Iwa-chan on my phone.”

“Why would you be looking for bad pictures of Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa said drily, focusing his bored expression in Oikawa’s direction.

“Well, I am flawless, but I have taken six bad photos in my life. Of all the photos I have on this stupid phone, I don’t have a single one of Iwa-chan looking bad! That has to be a mistake. Kindaichi, look through your pictures. You too, Mattsun. This is important.”

“Only six? Do you actually keep track of them?” Kindaichi asked, torn between disbelief and the realization that this was Oikawa Tooru he was talking about.

“Yes. There was Iwa-chan’s seventh birthday party where I was running away from a bee while crying, Iwa-chan’s twelfth birthday where he put an ice cube down my shirt and I made the _worst_ face, then that one time Iwa-chan took a revenge photo of me sleeping – wait, three times where he got revenge photos of me sleeping – and then that one selfie I tried to take, but I pressed the button as Iwa-chan hit me in the head with a volleyball. So mean! I hate Iwa-chan for ruining my perfect selfie record.” Tooru crossed his arms with a huff, the corners of his mouth turning down impressively. Issei and Yuutarou exchanged a _look_. “What are you waiting for? Scour those phones for evidence before he finishes his shower!” All three hopped to, scrolling furiously. There was no way that it would be that hard to find a photo in which Iwaizumi looked less than acceptable. Hajime wasn’t model-attractive like Oikawa, but he was ruggedly good looking, and had really grown into his body over the past year. Girls had begun taking notice, much to Tooru’s great frustration, so he wanted to feel a little better about himself by finding an unflattering photo of Iwaizumi and plastering it all over his locker.

“I can’t find a single one, Oikawa.” Matsukawa stated, hitting the home button. Kindaichi looks up from his device, shaking his head in agreement.

“None here, either.”

“He _has_ to have a bad photo!” Oikawa’s face darkened, but he soon popped up to his feet, the very picture of manic glee. “Let’s have a competition!”

“A competition?”

“YES! Let’s see who can get the worst photo of Iwa-chan in a week!”

“What do we get if we win?” Kundaichi inquired, legitimately interested.

“The losers buy the winner lunch! Or dinner!”

“Isn’t it kind of unfair because you spend _all_ of your time with Iwaizumi?”

“Are you afraid to lose, Matsukawa? Hm?” Tooru arched one eyebrow, tilting his head forward to look more intimidating.

“No, I’ll do it. I really can’t think of a time that Iwaizumi’s looked bad in a photo, and I want to see if it’s even possible.” Kindaichi nodded fervently once Matsukawa had accepted the challenge.

“I’m in too!”

“Good! We’ll compare pictures this time next week!” Tooru was absolutely delighted about his plan. Kindaichi and Matsukawa left several minutes later, chattering idly. Oikawa, on the other hand, stayed behind, a brilliant plot hatching in his mind. He was fully changed and ready to go, so he stood by the lockers, partially obscuring himself, with his phone trained on the shower entrance.  Oikawa heard the squeak of a knob turning, and the unmistakable sound of wet footfalls on tile. This was the perfect opportunity to take a candid photo. Iwaizumi stepped through the doorway and Oikawa quickly and surreptitiously clicked the button to capture the moment. Surely Hajime was scowling in a terrible way. Oikawa opened the picture quickly to examine it before Iwaizumi had time to notice him tucked away creepily in a corner. The door framed Hajime’s lean, hard body in the photo, white towel just barely clinging to his hips, rivulets of water worshipping the planes of his muscles as they rolled down his body. He wasn’t scowling, no; his face was that of Adonis, focused and chiseled. Oikawa growled quietly in frustration, shoving his phone in his pocket. Iwa-chan was _not_ supposed to look that amazing. It must have been a fluke, Tooru thought, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How had he never noticed this before?

“Oi, Trashykawa, why are you being a pervert in the corner? You ready to go home?” Iwaizumi called, snapping Oikawa’s attention to the here and now.

“I’ve been ready for aaaaages, Iwa-chan! It’s not my fault your brain is too small to comprehend a loofah!” Oikawa traipsed over to his best friend, dodging a projectile. He had to come up with a plan to get Iwaizumi off-guard, doing something that would absolutely require weird faces. Tooru’s eyes brightened when an idea dawned on him. “Iwa-chan, wanna come over today? I really want to play Mario Kart.”

“Ugh, but we have homework.” Iwaizumi mumbled, throwing a shirt over his head.

“When do we not? Pleeeeease, Iwa-chan! Pleeeeease!”

“Fine.” Iwaizumi really couldn’t ever say no to Oikawa, a fact that was often exploited.

 

 

“Okay, Iwa-chan, I’m going to go to the bathroom – you start a game to warm up since you need all the help you can get~” Hajime rolled his eyes, gruffly wrapping his broad palm around a controller. Oikawa gulped, watching the motion.

“I thought you said you were going to the bathroom, idiot?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Bathroom~!” Oikawa hopped out of his room, making sure his phone was still in his pocket. He knew well that once Hajime was in the zone, it would be really difficult to snap him out of it, even if Oikawa had the flash go off. Which he wouldn’t, of course, because this was a mission of utmost importance. From his sneaky location outside the room, he heard the unmistakable sound of the race starting, followed almost immediately by a string of profanities. Ah, Iwa-chan, so elegant and refined. Tooru got down on all fours, crawling over to the slightly ajar door, lifting his phone up to capture Iwaizumi.  Fighting down a victorious giggle, Oikawa took a picture. The man had the controller in a death grip, his face contorted in focus, but on the stupid photo, Hajime was all intense angles, his forearm muscles flexed to accommodate his grip, eyes blazing with passion. Somehow, his shirt had also risen up to sit on his right hip, and the loose collar of an old shirt sagged to reveal just enough collarbone to be maddening. The normally unflattering bedroom light made Iwaizumi’s skin glow and only served to accentuate his cheekbones and hair so black it was almost a midnight blue.  Oikawa’s eyes flicked from the photo to Iwaizumi and back, gaping, his heartbeat quickening. What was happening? Screwing up his face into a pout, Tooru crawled into the room on all fours, nudging into Hajime like an oversized cat.

“Iwa-chan, take a selfie with me!”

“No, Trashykawa, I’m in the middle of YOU DID NOT JUST BLUE SHELL ME, YOU GREEN, SPIKY TURD!” Oikawa knew better than to try and get his attention while he rattled off a series of progressively more nonsensical insults at Bowser. Instead, he turned the camera on his phone so it was facing the front, stuck his tongue out and tried to catch the two of them. Hajime was yelling nonsense, so he had to look ridiculous, right? Click. Tooru was pleased with the magnificence of his own hair in the photo, but what he had expected to be a background shot of Hajime with his face contorted in rage, ended up being something very different. Contrary to Oikawa’s belief, Iwaizumi wasn’t nearly as oblivious as he seemed, and he had caught the phone’s movement from the corner of his eye. “All silent, huh? Did I finally look better in a photo than you do, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi teased, unable to see the picture Oikawa was staring at. He was looking past his (magnificent) self at the fond, almost _loving_ look Iwaizumi was giving him from the corner of his eye, one side of his mouth curving into a lopsided smile. Hajime gave the impression that he wasn’t even aware of a camera, just of his best friend in the world leaning up against him. Oikawa wheezed. Ridiculous.

“No, Iwa-chan. I was just startled at how brutish you appear in photos. I might get contacted by anthropologists asking how I had found such a specimen in this day and age.” Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes before he pounced on Oikawa, tickling him mercilessly. “Noooo, Iwa-chan, nooooo!” That particular photo adventure had ended in failure, but Oikawa was determined.

 

 

Iwaizumi had ended up falling asleep on Oikawa’s floor, like he had hundreds of times before, so Oikawa just dragged him up on the bed and let him sleep. The next morning, Tooru awoke to find Hajime draped over him, also like he had before, snoring softly. Oikawa reached one long arm out towards his nightstand to grab the cold metal of his phone, sticking his tongue out with the effort. He threw up a peace sign in front of the camera before pressing the button. Surely now, Iwa-chan would be drooling and horrendous, though Oikawa couldn’t recall a time when his best friend had looked bad in the morning. Tooru hurriedly opened his photos to inspect the most recent one. Oikawa groaned quietly so as not to wake Iwaizumi up. This was terrible. The warm light of morning peeking through the windows caressed Iwaizumi’s relaxed face, his lips parted slightly as he breathed. Even under the covers, you could tell how strong his body was, and next to him, winking Oikawa looked like a silly child. Tooru squirmed out of bed, huffing all the way to his closet to grab his school clothes.

 

 

After dropping by Iwaizumi’s house for him to get changed, the two made their way to school. Hajime was distantly aware of a feeling like he was being watched, unable to figure out why. At lunch, he thought he saw Matsukawa’s head in a bush, but he shrugged the thought off because that was just ridiculous. Why would his teammate be hiding in a bush instead of eating? Oikawa was also conspicuously absent at lunch, so Iwaizumi sat by himself on a bench outside, chewing thoughtfully. It was pretty lonely without the constant white noise of Oikawa Tooru and his screaming fangirls. Meanwhile, Mattsun and Kindaichi were having a pow-wow by the school gym, discussing strategy. The two compared their photos from the morning, both finding Iwaizumi in varying states of perfection, no matter whether he was in class, studying, or just walking down the hall, slapping a friend on the back, good-naturedly.

“I wonder if Oikawa is having any luck,” Mattsun mused, and Kindaichi just shrugged, giving his phone a hopeless look.

“I don’t think I’m going to be winning this anytime soon.”

 

 

At practice, all three men had hidden their phones around the gym, waiting for an opportune moment. During a water break, each of them had gone to their respective devices and tried to take an unflattering photo from three different angles. Unfortunately, no matter what the angle, Iwaizumi looked tall, powerful, and singularly intimidating; not even his ridiculous water bottle detracted from the ferocity of his gaze. Oikawa squealed with rage, slamming his phone down on the bench. Iwaizumi raised a curious eyebrow in his direction.

“Some girl reject you, Shittykawa?” He chuckled, taking a swig from his water bottle.

“No, Iwa-chan, that’s impossible! I just didn’t get an email from someone.” Oikawa had never been good at lying to Iwaizumi, but the latter shrugged, figuring he’d hear about this after practice anyway.

 

 

Iwaizumi heard nothing in the way of an explanation over the next few days, but he did notice Oikawa behaving really strangely every time he was near his phone. Usually, Tooru would be all smiles around the stupid device, but now it seemed to be a source of endless frustration. The rest of his teammates seemed to be irrationally mad at their respective phones, and Hajime wondered whether they had all started playing some game that he hadn’t heard anything about. He walked up to Matsukawa after school, who was huddled over his phone with Hanamaki.

“Oi!” Hajime called out, and the two jumped three feet in the air.

“Oh, hey Iwaizumi!” they both muttered, trying to cover up whatever it was that they had been doing prior to Iwaizumi walking over.

“What’s this game that everyone’s been playing? Even Oikawa has been really into it and keeps frowning at his phone. Not that I care, but if he gets wrinkles, I’ll be the one hearing about it for the rest of my natural life.”

“Game?” Hanamaki blanched. “I haven’t heard of any game.” Matsukawa looked like he had been caught with one hand in the cookie jar.

“Me neither. Ask Oikawa, maybe he knows.” Iwaizumi screwed up his face, hauling his backpack farther up one shoulder.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hajime was officially confused and very suspicious, immediately assuming that Oikawa had some sort of plot brewing. Iwaizumi pulled out his phone to call the idiot who had been conspicuously absent from his life. The phone rang once, twice, and Hajime could have sworn that he heard the start of Oikawa’s obnoxious ring tone coming from behind a tree. Iwaizumi followed the sound, holding the receiver to his ear. Rounding the trunk, he came face-to-face with a startled Oikawa who was clutching his phone in both hands.

“Assikawa, why in the hell are you behind this tree? I’ve been waiting for you, idiot.”

“Ahh, Iwa-chan, I was just shading my delicate skin from the sun’s rays. Don’t want to get premature wrinkles, you know!” Hajime observed him flatly.

“You are a horrendous liar. Let’s go home.” Out of the corner of one eye, Hajime was sure he saw Kindaichi and Yahaba running off behind the school building. What had gotten into everyone? Oikawa was sweating next to his best friend, having nearly been caught. He had taken a photo of Hajime standing in front of the school, scowling as he waited for Tooru, but the picture had been criminally attractive with no scowl in sight. Hajime’s slacks clung to his leg muscles and butt, his tie loosened and blazer hanging off broad shoulders. The late afternoon light set off the angles of his face as he looked up to the sky, eyes following a chirping bird. Not. Fair. Tooru was uncomfortably flustered, having realized over the course of a few days that his best friend was very attractive, and not plain in any sense of the word. What was he supposed to do with that information now?

 

 

The two hung out all weekend, sometimes doing homework, but mostly playing volleyball in a nearby park. Hajime noticed that Tooru had taken a much greater quantity of selfies of the two of them than usual, but he shrugged it off. If Oikawa needed three hundred photos a day of himself next to Hajime to feel good, then Hajime would comply. There were only so many volleyballs he could throw at his setter before he ended up with a concussion, anyway.

 

 

A week after the competition had begun, the team was in the clubroom after practice. The others had been roped in by Matsukawa and Kindaichi, and were now muttering quietly over their phones with the ringleader, Oikawa. They had all waited for Iwaizumi to go shower before gathering in a tight circle. Oikawa started.

“Did _anyone_ manage to take any bad photos of Iwa-chan?” A roomful of ‘no’ echoed in Tooru’s ears. “How is this possible?!” Tooru’s voice went up an octave.

“We did get some nice photos, though.” Kyoutani held out his phone for Oikawa to see, and he flipped through a couple. Even thought Oikawa had made a point of avoiding Iwaizumi in favor of stalking him for photos, Kyoutani had managed to take a few of the two of them together that were really sweet. Really… _intimate_. Tooru swallowed. One in particular stuck out, where the two of them were looking at each other, laughing at something, eyes soft and warm. Tooru, of course, looked great, but the lines of Hajime’s face had softened in looking at his best friend, and Oikawa didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until he saw Kyoutani’s concerned look. “Most of our photos are like that.” Tooru became incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden.

“We’ll send ours to you, senpai,” Kindaichi muttered, already attaching countless files to an email. The room murmured assent. They were all so absorbed in their phones that they all missed seeing Iwaizumi walk into the room behind them, toweling his hair dry.

“What are you all doing?” His voice startled a full room of volleyball players, all of who nearly dropped their phones and stared at him, horrified. Hajime looked from the sheet-white team to Oikawa, who was aggressively avoiding eye contact. “Shittykawa, I know this is your doing. You have all been really weird this past week, and I want to know why.” Iwaizumi dropped his voice, fixing Oikawa with a stern look. The rest of the team skulked to their respective lockers, fully aware that they were leaving Tooru like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Oh, we were just-uh-“ Iwaizumi closed the distance between them, and despite his shorter stature, somehow towered over a stuttering Oikawa. “We were trying to get a bad photo of you.” Iwaizumi had been ready to strangle Tooru, but he wasn’t sure how to react to this admission.

“Is that why I kept seeing Kindaichi in the bushes and Matsukawa running away every time I came near?” Iwaizumi turned towards Kindaichi, who blushed and shoved his face into his locker. Mattsun feigned ignorance, changing out of his shorts.

“Yes.” Oikawa tried his best at a disarming smile, but Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened.

“Show me.” Hajime gestured to Tooru’s phone, and the entire locker room held its collective breath. Iwaizumi flipped through what had to have been four hundred photos (where did Tooru even find this huge a memory card?), face completely impassive. He opened his text window, sent a photo to himself, and then went to his locker. The whole team exhaled, tentatively resuming normal activity.

Oikawa was still stiff as he and Iwaizumi left school, and hardly said anything on the walk home.

“What are you going to do with that photo, Iwa-chan?” He nearly whispered as they approached their houses, afraid of Hajime’s wrath.

“Hm? Oh.” Iwaizumi pulled out his phone, revealing the photo of them gazing at each other fondly as his lock screen. Oikawa’s breath hitched, cheeks flaming red. “I think we both look good in this one. Have a good night, Oikawa.” With that, Hajime stepped across his threshold, sending that lopsided smile over his shoulder. Tooru stood in the street, completely speechless for the first time in his life. 


End file.
